Special effects in a song. Someone put the tape in a bath and scratched it up. Cardboard covers, even the CDs. Everything on Constellation felt (still feels) like an urgent dispatch. There was nothing open or apparent about this music. Fly Pan Am were the third and most ethereal part of the (for me) early-CST trinity, along with GY!BE and Do Make Say Think. There was the litany of names, each attached, it seemed, to every release; the sometimes indecipherable artwork; the inserts, the fold-outs, the packaging that felt and looked nicer than most hardback books.